Quicksand
by Floatlikeafeather
Summary: One Shots. 1. Carla stream of consciousness following Sinead's news. 2 Peter's perspective after Sinead's death
1. Chapter 1

Do you ever feel like you're sinking into quicksand, being pulled down against your will and no matter how you struggle it just gets harder, the pressure increasing, crushing you until it seems easier to just stop struggling and let yourself be swallowed up by hopelessness? Except you can't stop because your mind won't switch off, won't let you give in, won't bring you the peace you crave.

Things had seemed so much better lately. In fact they had been good, at least on the surface. I could see a future with Peter, I had family and friends who despite everything were still there, helping me rebuild myself, to move on with my life. I had started to laugh again, not just a fake smile to try and fit in with those around me, but genuine, joyous laughter, a feeling of belonging that I hadn't felt in a very long time. At Daniel and Sinead's wedding just a matter of days ago I had almost felt like my old self, confident, in control, more in love and content than I had dared to dream I could be. I had truly started to believe that this was over, that I had come through the other side; battle-scarred and defences damaged, but a survivor nonetheless.

Until I heard Sinead's awful news.

I know I shouldn't feel like this; that it's selfish and self-indulgent. I should be offering my support to those affected, it's what I would have done before, what I was always good at. I could always look after others even when I was struggling to face up to myself. So what was I now? A patient? A condition? Unable to function because pain that belonged to someone else was threatening to overwhelm me. Peter had noticed straight away, of course he had. Yesterday when we found out the news he didn't leave my side, tried to distract me from it; it was as if he knew what my brain would do if left to dwell for too long. I had sent him home eventually, exhausted at keeping up the pretence that I was fine, believing that time alone might help me process it, let me move on. As soon as he left I regretted it, wished he would come back, dreaded facing the night alone with my thoughts.

It's strange to think that the medication that used to knock me out for hours was now barely having an effect. I couldn't dull the images swirling around my consciousness, torturing me with my inability to do anything. Sinead didn't deserve this, she was such a precious soul, and I couldn't stop the overwhelming sadness; it was almost a physical pain that wouldn't go away no matter what I did, a weight on my chest, suffocating me. Roy could hear me moving around during the night; he came to check on me a couple of times, obviously concerned, and I felt so guilty for disturbing him that I lay still in bed, willing him to go back to sleep, let at least one of us get some rest.

Scott must have been contacted by Roy; it was too much of a coincidence that he had suddenly moved next week's visit to this morning because he had 'a gap in his diary'. He tried to reassure me that it was normal to have bumps in the recovery process, not fooled by my protestations that there was nothing to worry about, prescribing medication 'in case I needed some extra help', all the while sharing knowing looks with Roy that he thought I didn't notice. I didn't see the point in taking the drugs, yes they would calm things for a while, but the effects would soon wear off, the feelings would come back; and despite all their reassurances it felt like I would have let down everyone who had been trying so hard to help me.

I had given in and taken some in the end, using Roy's constant needling as my excuse but in reality I knew I would be unable to face Kate's leaving party without it, not that I would admit that out loud. If only Roy didn't know me so well, could believe the act I was playing so desperately. I wanted him to be able to live his life without worrying about me constantly, but I sure as hell didn't make it easy for him; yet another thing to feel guilty about, I guess. He was of course waiting for me when I arrived home that evening. He knew Peter was out late on a taxi shift tonight and that I would be alone, and I could see him studying me as I sat drinking my coffee, desperate to ask how I was but not wanting to start a row. I could feel the effects of the tablets from earlier wearing off, the tide of emotion that had eased slightly for a while flooding back. I had just said goodbye to my sister, off to find a new life for herself after I had destroyed her old one. She had forgiven me for everything, not that I deserved it, and somehow right now that made me feel even worse. I realised I couldn't pretend any longer, not to Roy. He saw me sinking into despair and just held me as I sobbed, not saying a word. How can hope turn to hopelessness in such a short time? My thoughts turned again to Sinead, Daniel and little Bertie, imagining how they would be spending this evening, cherishing every moment together before they were cruelly ripped apart. Why couldn't I value my life when she would give anything to have a few more months with her family? Maybe the tablets were the way to go; feeling numb had to be better than this. It was as if Roy could read my thoughts, he gently pulled away and carefully wiped away my tears before asking if I wanted to try the medication, to see if it would help; clearly relieved as I nodded my response, not trusting myself to speak.

It did help a little, as did Peter's presence; he hasn't let go of me since he arrived, and I don't want him to. I could lie with him forever; he knows the worst of me and loves me anyway. He always seems to find the words I need to hear to reassure me, to remind me how far I've come; and now I feel calmer again I know that I cannot give in, I must keep trying. Lying here in the safety of his arms I wish we could stay like this always, protected from the harsh world outside Roy's front door, surrounded by a love so strong that it must be enough to overcome any challenge. I feel a small glimmer of hope, maybe there is still a way out; maybe he and Roy can help me pull myself back to the surface again. I am lucky in that I know whatever happens, I won't have to face it alone.


	2. Chapter 2

As he stood in the rain and watched Daniel and Bertie walk off into the night Peter felt completely inadequate. He could do nothing to ease the pain of their loss and he was acutely aware of this. His inability to protect his little brother weighed heavily, and this took him by surprise. Sinead's death was expected of course, but how can you prepare for it, for what comes next? He couldn't even imagine how Daniel would get through the coming days. The weather echoed the mood of the small group of people surrounding him, all consumed by their own sorrow, lost in individual grief; each trying to maintain composure, some succeeding more than others. He felt a hand on his arm and an umbrella once again shielding him from the heavy rain shower, and he pulled Carla towards him, cradling her head against his shoulder as she clung to him, needing the comfort her touch brought.

They didn't stay there long, the downpour forcing them to find shelter. A few people were returning to the pub, but Peter couldn't face it. He and Carla couldn't drown their sorrows like most, use alcohol to take the edge off their emotions, and he knew that watching the others would only remind them of this fact. He moved to meet Carla's gaze, saw his pain reflected in her eyes as they reluctantly ended their embrace, and he wrapped his arm back around her as she turned to rest her head on his shoulder, leaning into him as they started the walk back towards Ken's.

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

Was he asking for himself or for her? He decided both. He doubted he would sleep much tonight anyway, and she was still so fragile he didn't want to leave her alone when he was unsure how well she would be able to process the day's events. She had become quiet and withdrawn when they had realised how bad Sinead's situation was, a normal reaction to such news, but it didn't stop him worrying that it would take her back to that dark place in her mind she had fought so hard to escape.

"I need to tell Roy, he won't know yet, and I don't want to leave him on his own, not after everything he went through with Hayley. You could stay in the flat with me though?"

He should have known she would be thinking about Roy. The situation so closely echoed Hayley's she had already confided in him her concerns over how Roy would react, what memories it would unearth. He pulled her tighter into his embrace as he replied.

"Yes, good idea. Do you want me to come with you to tell him, or would it be better if I came over a bit later?"

He watched her ponder the question. They had reached Ken's front door and were both keen to get out of the rain. As he turned the key in the lock she started to move away, decision made.

"No, I'll head over there now, you check on your family and come over in maybe half an hour or so?"

He watched her walk away before closing the door and heading into the lounge, finally allowing the tears he had been fighting all afternoon to come now he was all alone. How would they get Daniel through this? It all felt so unfair. He busied himself tidying up the cups from earlier, copious amounts of tea had been consumed that afternoon and he smiled to himself at how cliché it was; the typical British coping mechanism, how everything felt better after a cup of tea. If only it were that easy. He called Tracy. She had been a revelation over the past couple of days; this was a perfect example of when her resilience really came in handy, and he was grateful of her presence today, cutting through the tension, being practical when it was too easy to be caught up in the despair. She agreed to stay over and keep an eye on Ken and Adam, leaving him free to be with Carla. Daniel wanted to be alone, and despite his misgivings Peter could understand this, his brother needed time to get his head around the new reality; he just hoped that Bertie would give him the focus he needed to come through the other side. He decided he'd check on him in the morning; now he needed to get back to Carla.

By the time he reached the flat Roy had already retired for the night. Carla said he had taken the news well, but he could see concern etched on her face. They sat nestled together on the sofa, trying to divert their thoughts by focusing on the television, but he could tell neither of them were really concentrating. He wondered what she was thinking about. As much as he tried to resist it his thoughts kept returning to how close he came to losing her, how lucky he was that she had come back to him, that he had been spared the heart-breaking future that Daniel now faced.

"I love you."

As he spoke he felt her nuzzle even closer into him and he looked down to see her staring back, her eyes searching his, her hand reaching to caress his face, soothing him as he had so often soothed her in recent weeks. She echoed his words back to him and he knew she meant them. She paused briefly, seemingly lost in her thoughts before continuing.

"I know Daniel's going to try and push us all away, but if there is one thing the past few months have proved it's that no matter what you are going through, having someone there, helping to pull you out the other side, it's so important Peter. If you hadn't come back for me I…"

"I know my love" He leaned over and kissed her softly, never wanting to let her go. "We will be there for him. No matter what."

As she relaxed back into his arms he felt a new determination. He would do whatever it took to protect his family, and with Carla by his side he knew anything was possible.

"What on earth did I do to deserve you Ms Connor?"

She giggled softly. "Well you must have been very bad in a previous life. My knight in a leather jacket."

With that her eyes fluttered closed and he decided not to disturb her, reaching for the remote to turn off the television. He felt tired suddenly, and unexpectedly calm; maybe he would sleep tonight after all.


End file.
